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A review by aerdna
Birds Without Wings by Louis de Bernières
5.0
Turkey is one of those places that sink deep into the bone- one of a handful of places that I still think about often after only a short visit. I’ve been on the hunt ever since to learn moremoremore about the rich culture and history of the area. Birds Without Wings is the clear winner so far.
Bernieres sketches a picturesque Anatolian village and the lives of its inhabitants on the cusp of the collapse of the decaying Ottoman Empire. Their lives are a fascinating mix of a bewildering number of traditions: Christian saint days and Muslim muezzins, Turkish written in Greek letters, goatherds living in ancient Lycian tombs, Frankish suits worn with fezzes. And everybody drinks the olive oil from the tomb of the unknown saint. The first part of the book picks its way slowly through these details, mixing in perspectives from a host of characters. Bernieres has a beautiful knack for painting a vividly complete personality, and I fell in love with his characters and his village. The first half of the book was not terribly plot heavy, but was very enjoyable and did not feel static at all.
The tone changes in the last half of the book, when WWI and nationalism rear their ugly heads and some explication of the advent of Mustafa Kemal (Ataturk) and the general politics of the time is necessary. Bernieres does this through a series of wryly narrated biographical snippets of Ataturk’s life (and briefly that of the Greek royalty), culminating in the formation of a Turkish state and the various Balkan, Greek, and European wars that accompanied the disintegration of the Ottoman Empire. There were a few somewhat preachy parts about the ills of nationalism and imperialism and the relative absurdity of the concept of ‘nation’ (not that I can disagree with much of what he said), but overall I think he did an excellent job of educating the reader on the history without detracting from the heart of the story that he is telling. He does a great job highlighting the absurdities of politics, and these are some of the funniest sections of the book.
But Bernieres is doing something very interesting here, besides just illuminating a slice of Turkish history. He shows the ramifications of politics on the local level, how the disruptions of nation building can create enemies out of neighbors, ruin economies, and make killing monsters out of the potter next door. There is no ‘bad guy’ in this tale (except for maybe Lloyd George in England, of whom Bernieres is hilariously disdainful), just people trying to scrape by amidst the fears and uncertainties of war.
It’s gonna be hard to follow this one up.
Bernieres sketches a picturesque Anatolian village and the lives of its inhabitants on the cusp of the collapse of the decaying Ottoman Empire. Their lives are a fascinating mix of a bewildering number of traditions: Christian saint days and Muslim muezzins, Turkish written in Greek letters, goatherds living in ancient Lycian tombs, Frankish suits worn with fezzes. And everybody drinks the olive oil from the tomb of the unknown saint. The first part of the book picks its way slowly through these details, mixing in perspectives from a host of characters. Bernieres has a beautiful knack for painting a vividly complete personality, and I fell in love with his characters and his village. The first half of the book was not terribly plot heavy, but was very enjoyable and did not feel static at all.
The tone changes in the last half of the book, when WWI and nationalism rear their ugly heads and some explication of the advent of Mustafa Kemal (Ataturk) and the general politics of the time is necessary. Bernieres does this through a series of wryly narrated biographical snippets of Ataturk’s life (and briefly that of the Greek royalty), culminating in the formation of a Turkish state and the various Balkan, Greek, and European wars that accompanied the disintegration of the Ottoman Empire. There were a few somewhat preachy parts about the ills of nationalism and imperialism and the relative absurdity of the concept of ‘nation’ (not that I can disagree with much of what he said), but overall I think he did an excellent job of educating the reader on the history without detracting from the heart of the story that he is telling. He does a great job highlighting the absurdities of politics, and these are some of the funniest sections of the book.
But Bernieres is doing something very interesting here, besides just illuminating a slice of Turkish history. He shows the ramifications of politics on the local level, how the disruptions of nation building can create enemies out of neighbors, ruin economies, and make killing monsters out of the potter next door. There is no ‘bad guy’ in this tale (except for maybe Lloyd George in England, of whom Bernieres is hilariously disdainful), just people trying to scrape by amidst the fears and uncertainties of war.
It’s gonna be hard to follow this one up.